


The Vampire Lurks (unfinished)

by midnighhts



Series: Fictober 2017 [4]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Fictober 2017, M/M, Party, Vampires, Were-Creatures, Witches, squip is vampirism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 05:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12292512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighhts/pseuds/midnighhts
Summary: . . . because she doesn't know he's looking for a boy, most definitely not a boy with tainted blood and sad eyes.DAY 5 PROMPT ISPARTY





	The Vampire Lurks (unfinished)

**Author's Note:**

> i post so mnay unfinished drafts OOOF. im so sorry for the content.
> 
> but uh basically jer rich and jake are vamps, mikey is a human™, jenna is a witch/clairvoyant thing, brooke is a shifter or smth,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> yeah uh this was better in my head
> 
> tjis is also two days late sjsnmdjd
> 
> anyways,,, ill try to rewrite this gyuh

The house is jam-packed, which isn't necessarily something you should say about a two-hundred year-old mansion. If it were still the nineteenth century, it might still be standing straight with so many creatures inside, but it isn't, so _Dear God, May That Wooden Beam Not Fall And Crush That Poor Witch_ . Michael would do something to help her, but he's just a human and _There are other people around_ , _y'know, like actual telekinetics_. She'll be fine. Probably. Besides, there should be spells to help her just fine. Probably.

And, like, there's honestly something more important here than a bunch of sweaty, drunk, almost-humans grinding against each other with no sense of personal space. He already sees that at school; he doesn't need to see that with flashing lights or unsupervised drinking. Upstairs, past the superpower wrestling floor, people say Jake Dillinger is having his own mini-party inside his bigger party.

“Vampires only,” an animagus said, sneering. “Said it was very exclusive.”

“My baby might be there!” a werewolf adds. At Michael's quizzed look, they add, “Rich! Goranski? Trust me, he's great.”

A blue-spotted shapeshifter shrugs at him, “I heard they were going to sacrifice a human.”

“What?” Michael yelps. “Where did you hear that?”

“Jenna Rolan,” they all shrug.

Michael finds the witch stuck in between the wall and a couple making out. She's passing a crystal ball with her hands, but her eyes have that look that Michael knows well. Jenna is still human so, of course, shit like marijuana would still work on her.

He steps in front of her, and she stirs. It takes her a while to really understand her situation, or to recognise the dude in front of her. When she does, though, he raises her head to give him a drunken smile.

“I knew you'd be here,” Jenna says, all conspiracy and no play. “I've been expecting you.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

It's like she didn't hear him. She pushes against the two elementals with her elbow as if it were So Easy, and scoots just a bit to offer Michael a seat. He doesn't take it, though it may have been a little rude. Whatever. She has more space now, he guesses.

“What do you know?” he asks, pointedly. He's barely heard over the music.

She grins back at him. Her smile unfurls slowly like it was still taking her time to process the action. Her high a drag to his adrenaline.

“I know a lot of things, Mell. Be more specific.” She rubs her hand over the luminescent body of her crystal ball. “Or, don't. I should have enough power to find the answer on my own.”

Michael shifts. The couple's moaning and the loud bass is really disturbing and makes it so hard to concentrate. “Do you know where--”

“What?” She giggles. “I can't hear you.”

He tries enunciating it slowly, emphasis on “ _Do you know_ \--”

A small pack of shifters whoop and holler as they dash around the third and second floor, feet pounding like crazy on the wood stairs. A fae tries to lash at one of them, but they're gone as soon as they came.

Michael can't help but grind his teeth.

“Jenna,” he says, slowly. “Do you know where the vampires are?”

It takes a breath, a handful of moments, a loud counting in his head -- a one, two, three, four. . . He watches as the realisation hits her eyes, the look of understanding flashing bright in her fair eyes, the distinct “Ah.”

She scoops up her ball. Her grin curls at the edges, and she waves it in front of him like a dog with a bone. “Vampires? Oh. . . .”

“Get on with it,” Michael snaps, uncharacteristic with his jumpiness -- but, God, those elementals really are getting it on. He really needs to leave. He's getting freaked out.

“Third floor. First door. It's a bathroom, and no one ever goes inside.” She points at him. “You just have to make sure the boy you're looking for looks for you.”

Michael shakes off that whole _She Knows Something You Don't Want Her To Know_ thing that generally just comes off her, like a passive ability or a general aura. It's probably the way she smiles at him after he tries to scoff, because she doesn't know he's looking for a boy, most definitely not a boy with tainted blood and sad eyes.

Oh, Jeremy, why did you have to get into this mess?

Michael does as follows, though. He weaves through the sea of people, pushing people aside or slipping in even the tiniest of openings. There's not as much people as there were in the first floor or in the pool. There are more teleporters here, around the second floor staircase landing, and some dhampirs, too, that are loitering about outside the third floor. The crowd shifts from the diverse mix of species into something purely vampire, dhampir and converted.

He rubs a hand over his neck.

It doesn't help either that most of these vampires are wearing their vampire clothes while he's waddling around like a sheep in a pen of wolves in his CREEPS shirt. They don't stop him from going upstairs, but by God do those eyes follow him. Eyes of slaughter and bloodlust. Eyes of evil.

He manages to stuff himself inside the bathroom without passing out on the third floor stair landing. The bathroom looks untouched -- well, mostly. The destruction caused by so many supernatural creatures in such an enclosed space will stir up any room in the house, and make you regret leaving out a certain fragile object that is centuries old downstairs where most of the party is packed into. It's mostly clean, though. Some red cups, some wrappers, maybe some condoms. . . No blood, though, which is great because he doesn't need any diseases right now.

Michael plasters himself against the nearest wall.


End file.
